Peter Knew
by Ultracape
Summary: Peter knows who the culprit is and he knows he'll never be caught


Peter Knew

By Ultracape

See author's note at the end.

Peter knew who did it.

He looked around the glass enclosed transparent office, hiding greater secrets than any vault, more to cover his own inappropriate reaction from her than for any need to connect with his surroundings.

"Jones," he shouted, "Call a bus. Diana, call building security. Both of you know what to do." But Peter knew. He knew who did this. He knew there would be no evidence.

Pratt's puppet, that coward Callaway shook and fretted jamming herself away from her desk and up against the wall behind her. Maybe her own fear would get her to push herself through the window. He could only hope.

Peter knew who did it, down to the molecules of his bones.

"Blake, get ERT up here. Make sure they don't miss anything."

Blood covered Callaway's desk, it stained her blouse. Her hands were drenched in it. "Are you hurt?" he asked her, gathering information, not moving one inch forward to offer any modicum of comfort. He knew he'd shown more concern for Keller.

Callaway looked up from the gore, her eyes glassy. "Am, am I hurt? Am I?" she asked Peter as if she didn't know, couldn't understand the question.

But Peter knew, he needed no answer from her. She would not have been injured. It wasn't his way. There would be no evidence. There would be no trail of clues to follow. Callaway would recover, physically at least from the shock of what just happened.

"Why, how?"

The blood on her hands dripped down her arms as she raised them aborting a move to wipe tears of shock, of terror from her eyes.

But Peter knew.

YESTERDAY

"No problem," Neal said just before making his way out of the van.

Peter barely waiting until Neal was away turned to his new, B, uh, boss. "You're putting Caffrey's life in jeapordy just because you don't trust him," he said to Callaway's back.

She turned glaring at him. "You're over reacting Agent Burke. He's in no danger and even if he was, he's a criminal, he'll deal."

Peter was a second away from throttling that callous, bigoted, self serving, b #$% but was stopped by a cool hand placed on his arm.

He turned to catch Diana shake her head quickly. It wouldn't do anyone any good for him to drop kick Callaway's skinny ass out of the van. He knew his career was hanging by a thread and Neal's life had less support given Callaway's supervisory outlook.

It was just an hour later when Peter heard Belmer's voice over the microphone in Neal's watch. "What are you doing?"

"I was looking at your handiwork again."

"I'm pulling him out of there," Peter said typing abort into his phone."

"I'm going to get some fresh air," they could hear Neal say.

"What's that?" Belmer sounded angry.

Peter could hear Neal's breath catch just a bit but continuing to walk away.

"Hey," Neal yelped. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I want to know what that is," Belmar said his rising temper evident in his voice.

"Get ready to move," Peter said to Diana.

"Agent Burke," Callaway turned to Peter. "Stand down. Caffrey will talk his way out of this. I thought you had faith in your conman."

Peter gritted his teeth.

"Peter," the scream of agony reverberated inside the van as the tracking data suddenly disappeared from the monitor and an alert popped up.

"Let's move," Peter said reaching for his gun.

"I'll monitor from here."

"Peter," Neal's voice was filled with pain.

It took barely seconds for Diana to cuff Belmar and pull him out of the studio, leaving Peter to try and staunch the blood coming from Neal's nearly severed foot where the hand chisel stuck out of Neal's leg, his anklet, who cared about that damn piece of metal, smashed.

"Call a bus," Peter yelled into Neal's watch as blood flowed onto the floor.

"My leg," Neal could barely breath his agony was so great.

"It'll be alright Neal. I've got you," Peter held his friend, feeling him shake as the pain drove Neal into shock, seeing the extent of the injury, knowing that it would never be alright again.

EARLIER TODAY

Neal would recover, it would be long and difficult but he would.

"I'm signing the papers now to have Caffrey transported to a prison rehabilitation center," Callaway smiled up at Peter. "It will make up for that $15,000 you spent on marble to some extent."

"Why waste the money?" Peter smiled grimly as he sat down in the chair offered to him.

"Excuse me?" Callaway looked confused.

"The gallary has a patron who bought Neal's sculpture for $10 million. That will leave him with more than enough resources, even after reimbursing the Bureau, to pay for the best physical rehabilitation available and during his recovery, he can stay at my house.

Callaway did not look pleased. She reached out her hand for his report mumbling something about "the regrettable incompetence of your C.I."

Peter heard the soft knock on the door and saw her look up in anticipation as a beautifully wrapped box was delivered by a a familiar face in the uniform of a courier service who he had recently investigated just before his brakes gave out.

Peter watched Amanda read the card and her mouth move silently smiling a hated name.

And when she lifted the lid and the blood exploded onto her, covering her, he knew as he saw the message appear on the other side of the card. "His blood is on your hands."

Peter knew who the culprit was and he knew the little guy would never be caught. To some degree, justice had been done.

AN: It's a testiment to the actress' ability that I don't think I've ever hated a bad guy as I've hated Amanda Callaway. Her calus disreguard for Neal's safety garnered no consequences in the episode but it really should have for her. Also, if Neal were hurt, I just knew that Mozzie would seek revenge.


End file.
